Swalwell, #MeToo and the culture of silence in Congress

Lonna Drewes joins her lawyer Lisa Bloom at a news conference in Beverly Hills, Calif., Tuesday, April 14, 2026, to detail allegations of sexual misconduct by Rep. Eric Swalwell, after Swalwell exited the California governor’s race and said he’ll resign his seat in Congress. The AP typically does not identify people who say they are victims of sexual assault unless they identify themselves publicly. (AP Photo/Damian Dovarganes) Congress has a silencing problem. The recent scandals involving former Reps. Eric Swalwell (D-Calif.) and Tony Gonzales (R-Texas), along with the House Ethics Committee’s unusual public plea for survivors and witnesses to come forward about sexual misconduct, are more than just embarrassing episodes for two members. They are a reminder that Washington has still not fully reckoned with the ways powerful people use status, silence and institutional protection to cover up toxic behavior. Silence is a major problem in Congress — both because of its use of nondisclosure agreements that prevent bad conduct from coming to light and because the power imbalance between legislators and staff is so vast that survivors are reluctant to come forward for fear of ruining their careers or reputations. A recent study by the National Women’s Defense League found that 30 members of Congress have been accused of workplace sexual misconduct over the past 20 years. That number is likely much higher, because few cases are publicly reported. As the House Ethics Committee noted in the wake of the allegations against Swalwell and Gonzalez, “The greatest hurdle is convincing the most vulnerable witnesses to share their stories.” Congress is not just another workplace. It writes the rules for everyone else. When legislators or senior staff use secrecy to bury harassment, coercion, retaliation or other toxic conduct, the harm does not stop with the survivor. It extends to every American whose trust is abused. One silencing tool that members of Congress continue to use rampantly and that allows abuses of power to go unchecked are nondisclosure agreements. In Congress, these are uniquely offensive. In the private sector, such agreements are often used to protect reputations and shield executives who engage in bad behavior. On Capitol Hill, they do all that and more: They hide misconduct by people who exercise public power in the people’s name. They keep constituents in the dark about whether their representatives are fit to serve. And when settlements are funded directly by taxpayers, secrecy becomes not just a workplace issue. It becomes a problem for us all. For years, Congress operated under a system that made it harder for staffers to report misconduct and easier for lawmakers to contain it. The Congressional Accountability Act was reformed in 2018 after bipartisan outrage over how harassment complaints had been handled, but reforming the process is not the same thing as reforming culture. The old instinct remains intact: protect the institution, protect the member, protect the party, and hope the staffer goes away. That culture is exactly what nondisclosure agreements were built to preserve. This is no surprise. Our organization has spearheaded two laws to address sexual misconduct: the Speak Out Act, which limits the enforceability of pre-dispute nondisclosure and nondisparagement clauses in sexual misconduct disputes at work, and The Ending Forced Arbitration of Sexual Assault and Sexual Harassment Act, which gives survivors the option to take those claims to court instead of being forced into the secret chamber of arbitration. Those were real victories, and they have changed lives by shifting leverage away from institutions and toward people who had too often been told to shut up and disappear. But they were never enough, because even in this hyperpartisan time, it is easier to change laws than culture. Laws deter some bad behavior, but they do not prevent a culture of impunity, where lawmakers feel that their power over staff members and lobbyists earn them discretion. That is why we need to work on these issues in tandem: to strengthen laws against sexual misconduct, discrimination and retaliation, and to change the cultural norms that allow this conduct to go unreported or unpunished. Let’s be honest about what secrecy in these cases is often doing. It is a system for managing fallout for the powerful. It exists so that leaders can continue to rise, chair committees, and preach accountability to everyone else, while the people harmed by their behavior are told that discretion is in everyone’s best interest. Enough. Congress should ban nondisclosure provisions in settlements involving lawmakers and senior staff for harassment, discrimination, retaliation and other toxic workplace conduct. It should require transparent reporting when public funds are used in any settlement process related to official employment. Congress should create a truly independent investigatory mechanism with real power, because “members policing members” has never inspired much confidence in the public or in survivors, who must decide whether it is worth risking everything to speak up. It should establish consequences that are swift enough to matter, because delayed accountability is often just another form of institutional protection. New Jersey, California and Washington state have already banned nondisclosure agreements for all toxic workplace issues. We are working on similar legislation in New York, Connecticut and New Mexico. These laws reflect a simple recognition: secrecy is often the oxygen that lets abuse spread. Congress should take a page from these states and expand nondisclosure and nondisparagement agreements for all human rights violations, from sexual misconduct to discrimination and retaliation. The problem is that too many people in power still see scandal primarily as a communications issue rather than a moral one. But Congress is not a private club. The people have a right to know when their employees are abusing power, using secrecy to cover it up, and relying on taxpayer-funded institutions to protect them from consequences. Until Congress addresses both the law and the culture it has fostered for so many decades, the next scandal will not be some unforeseeable shock. It will be the predictable result of a system designed, above all else, to protect the powerful from public scrutiny. Gretchen Carlson and Julie Roginsky are co-founders of Lift Our Voices. Copyright 2026 Nexstar Media Inc. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten, or redistributed.